Little Boy, Little Girl
by Uh.yeah
Summary: I honestly have no idea what this is. Part angst, part memories, part... I don't know. You could read it and tell me...?


**A/N: **Oh dear. I seem to have gone all experimental. I don't really know what I was doing, where this came from and if it works in any way whatsoever. I hope it does. I don't think it's as…effective as I would have liked it to be. But please, please see what you think.

Maybe reviews would be able to stop me crying…

**Spoilers**: For, well… pretty much everything. First and second series, me dearies.

**Disclaimer**: Owned by the BBC. Very soon, I will march on that sadistic building with burning torches…

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**Little girl lost,**

**Little boy found.**

"What are you doing?" asked Rose, curiously, as she came into the Control Room.

The Doctor jumped slightly at the sound of her voice and Rose grinned at the look of surprise on his face.

"Are you alright?" laughed Rose, "You were staring at your hand as if you've never seen it before."

To her surprise the Doctor looked down. And actually blushed.

"Nothing," he said, airily, "Just thinking, that's all."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Rose, walking in further, "About what, Doctor?"

"Oh, you know," he said waving his hand around, "Time, space… The Universe. Life and all that deep stuff."

"Really?" asked Rose, disbelieving, a sly grin on her face.

"Yep," replied the Doctor, "I'm a deep thinker, me."

"Right. And how did your hand fit in with all that?"

"Well, basically, I was just thinking to myself…. that that hand was made out of the Universe. Yeah, we're all made up of bits of the Universe... And so we're all connected in this great, big…"

He looked up and seeing the mocking expression on Rose's face, gave up.

"Alright, alright," he said, looking away, "If you must know, I was thinking that if I'd never taken your hand that day, you wouldn't be here now. And… well… I'd be alone."

He looked her quickly and sincerely in the eye, before looking nervously away. He tugged awkwardly at his ear.

Rose walked slowly up to him and took his hand firmly in hers, their fingers interlocking.

"Thank God you did, Doctor," she said, simply, delighted as a joyful grin took over his face.

**Little boy laughs**

**And little boy frowns.**

She had seen the rate at which he could change. The enthusiasm with which he launched into each adventure. The manic grins, the insane laughs. The pleased little looks he gave her, when she could feel that he was happy to be sharing all this with _her_. And she was so grateful that she could share all this with him. The dangerous, but fun times, when he would joke and laugh at the enemy. There was no matching him then. And then the shift; the snap. The moment where enough was enough and he had to stop it. Had to stop them, the wrongdoers. And sometimes it made her afraid to see the speed at which the mask could come up. And the cold, hard glint which would take over his eyes. But she knew he couldn't keep the mask up for her.

And then there was his grief. He was the most fun to be with; he could make her laugh like no one else could. Just seeing him grin could fill her with a happiness she hadn't known existed. But yes, there was also the grief. The moments when he was hit by the fact that he was the last one and he was alone. And those were the moments when she knew to take his hand. To let him know she was there; that she was supposed to be there. And he wasn't alone.

**Little girl laughs, **

**But little girl can cry.**

She was stronger than any human he had ever met. Not necessarily physically, but mentally and emotionally she was more than he had ever known. She could match him, she could challenge him. She could read his moods. She made him happy, which struck him as the oddest thing of all. He felt he could go on forever, travelling with her and laughing with her. Because, by God, she had the most beautiful - the most fantastic - smile he had ever seen. The way it reached her eyes. The way it made her whole face shine. And the way she would poke her tongue into the side of her mouth when she was testing him, teasing him and happy. She was happy. With _him_.

But she had sadness, too. Her ability to connect with people caused her pain. Her empathy and her range of emotions hurt her in a way he never allowed himself to be. And in a way, he needed her for that. He could save the world with his knowledge, but she could save a soul with her kindness. She had saved his. But she had her ghosts, too. He remembered after they visited her father. The time when she had cried intermittently for a week. He didn't know if he had done the right thing. But she told him he had and he had to believe her. She had lost her father, but he had let her see him and that meant more to her than all the world. And, yes, it made her sad. But she wouldn't have missed the chance just because of that.

**Little girl didn't want**

**Little boy to die.**

"My Doctor" she said. And even as his insides were constricted by the horror of what she had done, his heart swelled that she had done it for him. That he belonged to her.

And there was no way he was letting the one good thing in his life be lost, so he made the ultimate sacrifice. And he died for her. But he didn't die, not really. Her Doctor died. But another one lived, another one, with another face and a chance to become Her Doctor again. And he wasn't going to fail her.

"So," he asked, sweeping into the Control Room and grinning when he saw her, "What's it going to be? We have the whole of time and the Universe at our feet. We've just saved the Earth again. And, Rose Tyler, I am going to take you absolutely anywhere you want to go. Not like I have anything better to do, anyway."

She smiled widely at him – so happy he was alive and still with her.

"Well," began Rose, her tongue in her cheek, "I've always heard Barcelona is nice, this time of year."

He grinned. Not the same grin, admittedly, but still a beautiful grin. A grin which lit up his face and seemed to have lit up her heart. And he danced around the Control Room, a bundle of energy, pulling levers and pushing buttons.

"Excellent choice," he called over his shoulder, "Excellent choice. I've got to tell you, apart from the dogs - which I assume you know all about -" he winked at her, "they have the most brilliant food. I'm serious. You haven't lived until you've tried one of their burgers. The guy who came up with them? Pure genius. Like nothing you've ever tasted before."

"I don't know," said Rose, thoughtfully, "My mum can actually make a pretty good burger."

The Doctor froze and looked at her, aghast. "Rose," he said, "Did you just compare an alien delicacy to your mother's cooking?"

"I might have done."

"Don't forget that I have just spent Christmas with you mother. So I do have some first hand experience of Jackie's cooking." He shuddered elaborately.

"Oi!" laughed Rose, "How dare you insult my mother like that?"

"She asks for it," he insisted airily.

"Well, you seem to get on with her better now… you know." said Rose.

"I suppose," considered the Doctor, crinkling his face up as he spoke. Suddenly, he jumped into action again. "Anyway, Barcelona awaits! I am going to find you a Barcelonan burger to push all thoughts of Jackie Tyler's cooking out of your head. Because, really, it's just rude to start making comparisons like that. I mean, this is something which is literally out of your world. And then you start going on about your mother. Too domestic, your lot. I always said it."

"Alright," laughed Rose, "I think that's enough. Shall we go?"

**Little girl scared**

**And little boy lied.**

"Go on," said Rose, looking eagerly at the TARDIS door, "Give us a clue. Where are we?"

He looked at her warmly, as he noticed the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

"I don't know," he said, evenly, his eyes also sparkling, "Shall we find out?"

Drawing his coat around him, he offered her his arm.

"Thank you, kind sir," she acknowledged, primly.

"A pleasure, my good lady," he returned, mimicking the pretence.

Together, they stepped out into the new world and looked around, absorbing all the information they could.

"Do you think there's any danger here?" asked Rose, unable to keep a slight degree of expectancy out of her voice.

"I don't know," answered the Doctor, scanning the area around him, "But probably."

Rose grinned up at him. "Just how I like it." - so long as they were together.

She seemed to be utterly fearless and in so many ways, she was braver than he was. Because although she felt fear and there were moments when she was afraid, she wouldn't run away. He admired her for it. But at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a little scared. For her.

**Couldn't keep her safe,**

**Though little boy tried.**

"So how many times have we been split up now?" asked Rose, casually.

"Do you want an average or an exact number?" replied the Doctor.

"I'm just saying," said Rose, "That even though we may be briefly split up, we'll always find a way back, won't we?"

He regarded her, his face completely unreadable and his throat suddenly tight.

"I'll always come for you, when I can," he said, suddenly, his voice low, "I'll always come for you."

"I know, Doctor," she said, her heart suddenly beating very fast, "And I'll always come for you."

**Couldn't keep running**

**And nowhere to hide.**

He'd kept her by his side for so long. He'd always suspected there'd be a price to pay for it, eventually. Feeling that happy - he knew it wouldn't have been allowed to last.

But why her? And why now?

It would haunt him. It would always haunt him. To not have said it. To not have said it at the moment he needed to say it most. The moment she needed to hear it most.

And he heard the words everywhere now. And he heard her voice. And he saw her face. And late at night, in his dreams, he would reach out for her. But she was always too far away.

He was trapped. She was trapped. And, God, he just wanted to hold her hand and hear her laugh. He wanted to run with her, away from the bad guys and run far away, into safety. He wanted to see her smile and hold her while she was sleeping. He wanted her to stand next to him and quietly know what he was feeling. He wanted to scoop her up into a hug after avoiding another danger. He wanted her to make him a cup of tea and watch her roll her eyes when he complained it was too sweet, or not sweet enough.

He wanted…her.

He knew she was safe. He knew she was alive. And he knew she loved him. He had always known it, yes. But to hear her say it, to have her look at him and say it, meant more than anyone could ever know. But to have not…. to have not been able to tell her…to not have been able to give that in return for all she had done for him was too painful. He hated himself for it.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He had run out of answers as they had run out of time. And suddenly nothing, nothing at all, felt the same.

He doubted it ever would again.

**Now little boy's lost**

**Since little girl died.**

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I cried when writing that. Not because I found my words amazingly moving or anything (as if), but because I was just…remembering. 

So tell me…. Did it work? At all? I need to know about this…


End file.
